


Sandcastles

by AshesToFrost



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Comedy, Dark Comedy, M/M, Melodrama, Multi, Post-Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Eternal Throne, Post-Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-10-30 11:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17827979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesToFrost/pseuds/AshesToFrost
Summary: Quinn gets assigned to the Alliance to keep an eye on things on behalf of Empress Acina. Arcann finds himself both irritated and interested in the new presence, while Mal has trouble getting used to the outside world again.





	1. Jilav

**Author's Note:**

> Listen just roll with it okay

Shower heads, Quinn thought, were incredibly bizarre. He was, of course, too tall to have been completely underneath the flow of water, and so in his current standing position facing the shower head it hit his chin directly, and continued on down the rest of his body, taking any unwanted dirt with it.  
The water was hot, almost scalding, yet the borderline pain kept him afloat from sinking any deeper into his melancholic state.  
 _How long had it been?_  
He knew the numbers before he even had to think on it – they were always there, consistently increasing, every day memory of the one he had served fading while the total time of separation grew. An unwelcome journey he had found himself upon, with which he stood no chance of stopping or getting off.  
He would wait. He would always continue to wait. Even if he could no longer remember what they sounded like, or even… _looked_ like, he knew the Wrath had always defied his logic - destroyed his expectations by living when death should have taken them.  
So he clung to hope, even when everyone around him said otherwise, when his own logical side told him to give up, and wondered where they could be.  
One day, he thought, one day the Wrath would return to his life as suddenly as they had left.  
And that was what kept him going.  
Water continued to flow down his skin, washing away all remaining dust and grit that clung to his skin, leaving his still smooth and muscular form glistening as steam rose from it.  
The Alliance Commander, he had heard, was a strong-willed woman whose sharp wit was nothing short of abrasive and off-putting. A challenge to work with, no doubt, but perhaps a welcome distraction. He knew he would never move on, never forget the Wrath, but he had an inkling of an actual job to do for once, and that would take up his time.  
Empress Acina had ordered him to keep an eye on the Alliance, make scheduled reports and notify her of anything that would prove to be suspicious - and maintain close watch on one person in particular, who she clearly expected to endanger everyone.  
Arcann Tirall.


	2. Nisip

It had been a very long, very hot day for Arcann, and between the heat, having to hold his tongue, and the many, many grains of sand that had found their way into even places he hadn’t imagined finding it in, he was coming to the end of his tether. Thankfully, the day was starting to come to an end - no longer at the blistering temperature it had been - and their purpose on Tatooine was almost entirely dealt with, so now their Alliance Commander was content to see sundown, no doubt accompanied with some form of intoxication, and was only an encouragement away from leaving the former emperor to his own devices.  
Which, frankly, he'd been waiting _all_ day for.  
The Commander was pleasant enough to him, jokes and sarcasm aside, civil and restrained in her more reckless ways when he was around - but that wasn’t to say that everyone else shared her optimism in his turn from a mortal enemy to a…to an _ally_.  
“Day’s over, grumpy”  
Torn from his thoughts, he _sighed._ “I have noticed, Commander”  
“Yeah” Arcann thought she sounded weary. “Go on, you’re free until tomorrow. I’d suggest you rest up - _apparently_ Empress Acina is sending someone to us as a ‘gesture of good will and acknowledgement of our continued cooperation’” She imitated the Sith Empress by wrinkling her nose in distaste, but a roll of her eyes and a distinct flat tone made it clear that she thought the offer was, as they say, _utter bantha dung._  
“Then we can safely assume she doesn’t trust your Alliance”  
“We’ll prove her wrong. Anyway, just wanted to give you a heads up. See ya round”  
As quick as he was interrupted, he was once again alone.  
A short stroll past their gathering, crunching through the cooling sand toward their water supplies, and he was at last free of any snide comments and sideways glances he’d almost gotten used to.  
Pleasantries that didn’t come from the Alliance Commander were essentially nonexistent. Practically everyone else bar his own mother expected him to fall back into old habits and attempt to slaughter them all.  
 _Fortunately_ for them, the regular times he was inclined to do so, he kept his anger in check, though it was difficult - that is to say, it felt many a time it was almost impossible.  
The thinly veiled and frankly petty implications directed his way riled him up further than a flat out battle or defiance. He was a man used to venting any of his fiery temper right away, and as that was no longer an option, he turned either to as equally transparent quips in response, or, more often was the case, long, sullen silences. Which were very long, and _very_ sullen.  
Removing his mask to clean his face, he was met with a sudden sharp breeze that blew a small amount of sand into his face…and into his mouth. He coughed, spluttered, and muttered a couple of foul curse words under his breath. Now he’d be crunching the disgusting substance with his back teeth for _days_. The rations provided by his new residence were dull enough on their own, without the taint of dusty, unrefined salt, and he _hoped_ this new addition to their company meant they would at least return to Odessan for something that _didn’t_ taste of musty nothing. The Outlander had implied so, but nothing had really gone his way since… _well_.  
A long time, at least.  
Still, moments completely alone were now few and far between, and Arcann was grateful for every one - even if he chose to fill them dwelling on every negative aspect of his current status. No longer a ruler, only now following the orders of another, there was little else to do other than mentally whine to avoid open conflict. Even if open conflict itself at times felt like a better option to remaining in the Alliance as a passive representation to offer penance for past actions, especially when the Eternal Alliance itself did hardly _anything_ to further its own cause. Enforcing power or even doing anything at all to earn the respect of those it wanted to rule seemed to be a concept beyond even the wildest thoughts of the commander.  
While it _was_ getting cooler, the sun still hot enough to make him uncomfortable with sweat, and so he disrobed - at least, his top half. He may have been alone, but Arcann wasn’t about to risk sand getting in his ass when it was just about everywhere else.  
Contemplating a bucket of water in front of him, he couldn’t muster the energy to wash the sand off himself with handfuls of it, so simply picked it up, and, in the setting amber sun, let it gush over his finely toned torso, the rivulets sparkling in the light across his skin.


	3. Castel de Nisip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn idk about this but im havin fun

The normal dressing routine and familiarizing himself with the short brief from Empress Acina was all the morning had consisted of. Malavai was sat in silence, still waking up aboard the ship to Odessan while they approached and he mulled over the facts.  
He was there to keep an eye on things - be Acina’s eyes and ears if she asked for information - but also to be a genuine asset to the Eternal Alliance. The Empress had shown a solid faith in his capabilities, using the time they had worked together as evidence of his prowess, as many would say that five years in prison was more than long enough to render anyone past the point of sanity.  
They would be right, of course.  
Even the memories of the time were enough to waver his carefully crafted stability. He wondered briefly at how many days had he spent with only himself for company, shivering in the corner of his cell, ignoring and refusing any request to stop hoping for the return of his old charge and yet all the while feeling every clear memory of the sith fading, falling like grains of sand through his fingers.  
Quinn had to shake his head to regain composure. He had access to holos now, and could continue the search in the meanwhile - even if a niggling voice in his mind told him it was pointless to try, that they were gone, dead - and he had a mission. Emotional distractions were not something he could afford. It had taken him much focus to gain a comfortable distance of a professional nature from Empress Acina, while keeping his loyalty toward her as steadfast as any other part of his nature, confident in his ability to serve her without the utterly unquestioning devotion he was prone to offering.    
Once had been enough.  
The Alliance ought to be interesting at the very least, a fit distraction from wallowing in his lower moods as he had gathered through information that there were quite a few _ loud _ personalities that would be…entertaining to work alongside, at the very least.  
However, there was one in particular he was dreading being around again, and that was Pierce. Pierce was a man who now had apparently been granted the same title as his own and no longer had the chain of command to keep him in check - a man who would no delight in using this to his own advantage and amusement, and one who resented Quinn as much as the feeling was returned.  
Quinn doubted that in the ten years absent from each other’s lives that he had sobered up or matured at all, but was all too aware of his own fragility. The idea of being around such constant undermining threatened to fill him with abject horror.    
Odessan was as picturesque as it was unsettling. New places, new challenges - there had been a time he would have marched into such a scenario with absolute confidence, yet now he found that without Empress Acina’s sharp orders over his shoulder he felt untethered, adrift a current that could only take him to the recesses of his mind where his time in prison blanked out. Before panic of any sort could set in, he remembered the words of the doctor he’d been briefly assigned to.   
_ “Close your eyes. Listen to the rain. Look at the mountains” _   
Rain was comforting. Mountains were inspiring. Quinn imagined he could hear the gentle, welcoming  _ pitter-patter _ on the outside of the ship.   
Outside, where the sun sky was clear, they were coming in to land near a large building on the side of a cliff, where a small group of people were standing, presumably in wait. At the approaching distance he could barely make out the figure of a woman who had to be the Alliance Commander herself, along with four others - two who were dressed in the colours of the Eternal Empire - a twi’lek, and another figure who was stood further back.  
Quinn turned away, walking back to his quarters to be sure that he was presentable and prepared.    
  
Wind whipped up as the ship came in to land - grey and dull, something Arcann had come to expect from the Sith Empire - he had the fleeting thought that perhaps he ought to have removed his mask for the greeting of another member to this rag-tag alliance, but his mind was drawn immediately elsewhere when this representative descended.   
Currently advisor to the Sith Empress, they’d been informed by Beniko, this man had curiously been completely off-radar until less than a year ago, where he simply seemed to...appear. Beyond that, he had apparently served a couple of high-ranking Sith before the days of the Eternal Empire.   
As he drew closer, addressing the commander, Arcann noted that he moved with an awkward stiffness, repeatedly glancing at the ground as he introduced himself. He was nervous, and it didn’t take a force-sensitive to feel it.   
“...Arcann Tirall, and his mother, Senya.”   
“A pleasure to meet you both”   
At being introduced, he snapped out of his silent trance, and nodded to the newcomer. “The pleasure is ours, I’m sure”   
“Koth? Vette?”   
It was only there a second, but Arcann noticed - at the mention of the twi’lek’s name, Quinn’s jaw had tightened. Now aware of this development, he also noticed the man’s left hand was trembling, in a tight fist by his side. Vette’s high pitched cadence rang out.   
“Well, look what the cat dragged in. We’ve met, commander - we used to work together. If that’s what you’d call it”   
“...Quite”   
For a moment, the two shared a significant look. Vette folded her arms, and the other man caved, looking away, in the direction of Koth.   
“Koth Vortena. I hear you’re to be our liaison to the Sith Empire now?”   
“Something along those lines, yes. The Empress found it fitting to extend her gratitude to the Alliance Commander for her help in the past year. As it is, I am to offer our assistance wherever necessary.”  
“Pleased to have you on board” The commander extended her hand. Quinn shook it, but retracted his hand as soon as he could. Arcann was intrigued, if only a little.    
The skin around his eyes was dark, shadowed, and a little red, a few wrinkles over his face giving away his age. Had to be in his late forties, despite his jet black hair. Striking blue eyes that were brighter than his own met his gaze for less than a second, and Arcann stopped staring.   
They walked inside, and he wondered if he’d needed to be present at all.


	4. Mouillé

The hour was late, and Quinn had wanted to begin preparations to sleep, yet a knock had come at his door. He almost hoped it to be the one he had been sent to watch. There was...something about him that felt almost familiar. Almost alluring, in his own way.  
“Hey. It’s me. Open up”  
He froze. _Vette._  
 _Ce’na_  
The moment he had realised she’d been there, he’d almost turned and ran. It was too familiar. Had been too long. Too sudden, it threw him off. He’d known she was a part of the Alliance, but to hear a voice that _should_ have been accompanied by another, it was-  
“I know you’re in there”  
She sounded impatient. He ought to answer, or she’d irritate him for hours. Tentatively, he unlocked and opened his door to find her leaning on the wall outside, alone. He met her gaze for one short moment, before looking away.  
It was so much harder in person.  
“Listen - and hear me out, please - I know we never really got on, but,” she faltered, scratched the back of her head, and looked at him, “you know why I’m here”  
“Do I, Vette?”  
He did. He just couldn’t say it.  
“Yes. I’ll be straight with you - I’m surprised to see you’re still alive. Pleased, if you’d believe it”  
“I don’t”  
Vette cringed. He was being cruel, but anything else stuck in his throat.  
“Alright, I’m comin’ in”  
He was abruptly pushed past, and she sat on his bed, glancing around his small room, waiting for him to close the door. In doing so he had to hold back from slamming it. Everything within him was tense.  
It took a moment for him to turn around, but he could already feel panic rising, fast. He couldn’t do this. Not now.  
“I might think you’re a stuck up asshole, but when it comes down to it...hey, there are worse people out there. We killed a lot of stuff together. So I’m not gonna say it twice. I don’t wanna see you die - I wanna be sure you’re here, among this-”  
Cutting herself off, she bit her lip in thought.  
“I wanna know that you’re holding up. That you’ve been holding up”  
It was so difficult to respond to a sentiment that felt as alien to his nature as the planet he found himself on. Resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself, he sat down next to her and listened for his rain.  
“I am alive now, am I not?”  
Choosing his words carefully, he avoided looking her way.  
“Yeah, but...come on. Don’t hide away. You know what happens when you get into that habit.”  
What could he even say? That no, he hadn’t survived 5 years of prison without reaching rock bottom. That he only lived to find the person that had introduced them.  
“This all quite sudden, I don’t feel...comfortable discussing this right away. Some other time, perhaps?”  
Vette eyed him curiously, but didn’t push him on it. Thankfully.  
“Sure”  
She got up, and left, but paused, almost speaking up again, before seeming to decide against it and continue on out.  
Quinn got up right away and locked the door again, then leant against it, pressing his forehead onto the cold surface, a relief to his flushed skin. He was breathing hard. Chest hurt. Throat hurt. Couldn’t catch his breath.  
Turning, he slid to the floor. Stared at the ground. He was overcome with sadness, but the tears wouldn’t come. He hadn’t been able to muster any for over six years.  
So instead he listened to the rain.


	5. Sable

Two whole days had passed, and Arcann hadn’t been able to shake his uncalled for interest in Major Quinn. It was strange, and there was nothing to decisively pin down as an example, but in the short time they’d been in each other’s presence he felt he wanted to to get to know him. The man was indeed in his late forties, and carried himself in a manner that spoke of him being only present enough to pay attention, while his thoughts were far, far away.   
It was so familiar, the feelings he sensed within him when he took the time to stretch out. So much inward negativity, yet it felt a different colour to his own self-hatred. It was more melancholic. Less aggressive, more...blue.  
He wanted to know why. He wanted to understand - to be understood.    
Arcann also wanted to demand to understand why whenever their eyes met across the meeting table, while Quinn stood in utter silence, he felt the stirrings of something akin to a feeling he hadn’t even had the energy spare to entertain in all of his life.  
A strange desire for affection. To pull those deep blue eyes out of their swamped thoughts and into the gaze of his own greyer hue. Perhaps to listen to his voice more. Speak in a softer tone, and not of anything involving the fate of all around them.    
The feeling was absolutely one he couldn’t understand how to handle. Anger he could do. Anger needed a wall to punch, a thing to crush. This wanted...the utter opposite.   
You can’t crush a man when you want to enjoy his company.   
Unfortunately.   
Neither can you conquer a man. Entirely.   
The only other he had felt comfortable enough to share his thoughts with was Thexan. And Thexan was gone. Even Vaylin hadn’t been the same - she had been his little sister, someone to care for, not to simply pass the time with. And his mother...for all her efforts, only made it easier for him to wallow in his own guilt.  
There had also been absolutely no sign of any reciprocation from the person in question. The only feeling he seemed to emit that was at all interesting was a fixated, hopeless longing for something, or perhaps, some _ one. _ __   
Again, a feeling Arcann was all too familiar with. He still thought on his brother every day. On how Thexan would find his current emotional predicament amusing, no doubt. He had been the gentler twin, and would have understood what it was he felt better than himself.   
Dwelling on it made him feel worse, and drew his mother’s attention as he sat. She came over, the wind blowing her hair from her face, and sat beside him on the bench.   
“A lot on your mind?”   
“Some. I was reminded of Thexan. I…”   
It was still hard to admit, or say out loud. After all, as the one who had killed him, who was he to voice his sadness over the loss?   
“I miss him too. He would have liked to see you here”   
“I think so. Once he had come to terms with...Father”   
There was a lot to say about his father. It all seemed to fit within the one word.   
He could almost see Thexan watching the sun with a deceivingly calm demeanour. Enjoying the company of so many strangers, figuring out the enigma of the newest arrival.   
“I miss Vaylin, too. Even though she had to be stopped, she was my sister.”   
“And my daughter. I loved her as much as you did”   
Vaylin somehow hurt more unbearably than Thexan. Thexan had been a part of him, and yet Vaylin had been his responsibility. He had wanted to see her free of the lingering grasp of their father, but he had felt the insidious effects on himself still, and his sister had suffered for that.  
“She deserved to be here. To be free”    



	6. Château De Sable Pt. 1

“Been a while, hasn’t it?”   
Quinn felt his stomach drop as he recognised the voice behind him. Somehow, during the past few days he’d managed to avoid him aside from a few brief moments where everyone had gathered in the meeting room, and yet today the inevitable had finally happened.   
Pierce had found him.   
Steeling his tone, he turned around. “Indeed it has.”   
Thankfully, his adversary was alone. Quinn narrowed his eyes.   
Pierce folded his arms.  _ Insufferable _ . “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me”   
“Just because I haven’t sought you out doesn’t mean I’ve been avoiding you. I have a job to do”   
“Oh yeah, right. Spying for your new master, is it?”   
“And I take it you’re doing whatever entertains your incredibly short attention span”   
“You mean doing something genuinely worthwhile.”   
“Remind me again, was there something you wanted? Or are you just here to belittle me for your own satisfaction”   
Pierce looked him over in a way that made him feel incredibly uncomfortable, but stepped back to let him past. “As you were Major”   
Biting his tongue, Quinn hurried past. It was a testament to his change in temperament that he hadn’t simply decked the man and moved on with his day. With some people, violence was the only language to speak.   
Much like Arcann, perhaps. Or so he'd been told.  
_ No _ .   
The former eternal emperor was different. Though he seemed to seethe with malevolence wherever he stood, he still maintained an air of patience, and some bizarrely familiar dominance.   
Perhaps it was that he was the reason for being here, or perhaps there was something more to it. It was nerve-wracking, trying to be discreet about his true directive on this planet, but he had only been asked to observe. Which was what he was doing. Observing.   
He had caught Arcann staring in his direction more than once, and although he ought to have found it unnerving, it only served to make him just a little self-conscious.   
Being scrutinised by such a striking gaze, a single blue-grey eye fixated upon himself, the expression hidden by his awfully intimidating mask - it wasn’t an entirely negative experience.   
Though he hated to admit it, there was still some part of him that immensely enjoyed the company of frightening individuals. Of course, there was no chance of any interest being at all reciprocated, but it didn’t retract from being able to admire awe-inspiring power in a... _ fine _ form.   
Quinn jerked his head to the side, shaking the distractions from his mind. Planning a satisfactory report for the Empress was difficult enough without his mind lingering on the man in question - and in a manner that was bordering on less than professional.   
It wouldn’t have even crossed his mind if not for the  _ staring _ .   
He should have found it worrisome. Should have wondered if he had done something to warrant such focus. Yet he knew without any doubt it wasn’t dangerous in the slightest. Somehow,  _ somehow _ he was utterly sure of it.   
Even though they had barely spoken at all.   
As he sat down to prepare his report, Malavai made a mental note to ask Arcann, and attempted to get on with his work.   
  
Two solid hours had passed, and although he had completed the report for the day, he had been finding more and more miniscule tasks to complete in order to avoid pouring over all his collected clues to the whereabouts of former Wrath. There was nothing he could do to make a difference - if they hadn’t been found by now, they would show up of their own volition. Polishing his boots, as he found himself currently, was a clear advantage, and wasting time and emotional energy on a wild goose chase would only result in another fallout, disappointing more people, failing more tasks and failing  _ himself. _ __  
They would come back. It was only a matter of waiting and wanting it enough, surely.   
...Yet even has he told himself this, he felt the crushing guilt at having not continue to dedicate every breathing second to ensuring their safety. Being indebted to someone who you could never dream of leaving the service of was one thing, but being unimaginably devoted to the life of a person who’s current state was in the balance so long as he didn’t know the truth was a hell he hadn’t been able to ever get used to. It found new ways every waking moment to pull at his hatred for his own cowardice and incompetence, threatening to destroy every inch of strength he had.   
He sighed, inspecting his shoes. They were in as perfect condition as they had been the last three times he’d looked, only gaining in shine.   
The box he’d kept was in the corner of his room, under a table that held a lamp. He’d kept it locked and placed the key in a locker on the other side of the base, near the scientific research centre. The atmosphere of the place unsettled him greatly, and was an incentive to stay away from being able to delve back in.   
However, he was struggling with it intensely. Nothing of interest had happened - the Alliance was merely minding its own business. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to put his mind at rest.   
The Empress wouldn’t approve.   
Yet he knew the following day wouldn’t bring anything particularly taxing. He could cope with anything it brought up,  __ surely?   
Carefully putting his boots back on, he stopped to consider his jacket, but decided he couldn’t be bothered. He was off-duty. Something muttered in the back of his mind that this in itself was a bad sign, but it was easy to ignore.   
Picking up the key to his quarters, he kept his gaze down to hold off his sudden nerves, and left the room.


	7. Château De Sable Pt. 2

Though the day had gone fast enough on it’s own and he had all the time in the world to himself, Arcann couldn’t settle in his own quarters no matter what he did. Meditation had calmed his nerves for about five minutes before his thoughts went back to his brother, his sister, and the newest addition to the team. A hot drink had warmed him for a moment, but he’d wound up burning his tongue and regretting the whole idea.   
He’d decided to search out his mother again, since she’d at least listen and understand his irritations. The walk wasn’t taking too long at all - he was just about to pass the scientific wing when he came across a set of lockers and Malavai Quinn himself. The man was fiddling with something in his hands, a few feet away from the lockers, repeatedly glancing and muttering to himself.   
“Is everything alright, Major?”   
“Oh!”   
In surprise, Quinn turned, and dropped whatever it was he’d been holding. It clattered to the floor with a metallic jingle, turning out to be a small set of keys. Quinn picked them up hastily, and looked over at him in a wary manner.   
“Can I help you?”   
“I asked if everything was alright. Forgive me for noticing, but you seem somewhat distressed.”   
Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say. In a prickly tone, the major replied, eyes very slightly narrowed in confusion and offense.   
“There’s nothing wrong. I’m just collecting some personal items. I apologise if I distracted you from anything you were intending to accomplish”   
“Not at all”   
Arcann was about to leave, but noticed that Quinn hadn’t moved either, and was pretending not to observe him by absent-mindedly considering his keys.   
“I was...going to find my mother. I think the dealing with personalities so infuriating as our current council has taken a toll on my patience.” He didn’t exactly know what he wanted from suddenly volunteering this information, but it drew the man out of his pretend trance and their eyes met again. Arcann knew he was being sized up - an alternative motive suspected in the action. Even though he himself didn’t really know the meaning behind it.   
“I suppose I can understand that.” Quinn went back to looking at the keys, and glanced again at the lockers. “I’m supposed to be...but I just can’t find the resolve.”   
It wasn’t very clear what he meant by that.   
“Good luck, I...suppose.”   
Arcann nodded to him, caught so off guard by the erratic nature of this man. A moment passed, and then he turned to leave, hearing a sigh and a key enter a lock.   
Curiosity itched a far away part of his brain, one he didn’t fully acknowledge in his conscious mind.


	8. Vochtig

Quinn had weighed up the options again and again, and yet as he absorbed exactly how bad the consequences could turn out to be, it had to be considered that he simply wasn’t proficient at figures.   
He was sat in the cantina of the Alliance base, drink in hand - whatever the bartender had understood his request of ‘the strongest’ had been - essentially drowning his sorrows at the far end of the bar.   
When he’d finally returned to his room, he’d opened the safe to look through everything only to be overcome with absolute despair as soon as he came across a holo of the Wrath. Somehow the expression they wore, the familiarity of the cold unforgiving rage behind their eyes, the unexpected strength in their hands, the expectation of anything at all had been far too much for him to juggle at once. Perhaps he’d frozen. Perhaps he’d stumbled back, fallen against the wardrobe and held back a horrified noise of overwhelming emotion. Perhaps his vision had gone, and he’d had to balance himself there for what felt far too long. Perhaps.   
His memory wasn’t too good. As was the intention.   
Malavai downed the rest of what was in his glass, it burning and catching his throat, causing him to cough. Blinking away the water in his eyes he looked over at the bartender and attempted to wave them over, but they were talking to someone who, behind his blurred vision, looked suspiciously like it could be the younger Tirall. He swallowed his pride, and went over.   
Inebriation was more important.   
“Another please.” Clumsily, he sat on a stool beside the former emperor and clattered his glass onto the bar. The bartender grunted, and continued pouring into a large cocktail glass. Quinn watched with alcohol-induced interest, wondering why how one mixed a drink made even the slightest difference to the taste. There was probably some chemical answer, but he couldn’t find the energy to attempt to focus on exact details, or even to care enough to try.   
The drink was placed in front of Arcann, who graciously thanked them and took a large swig, before turning to him.   
“Do I have something on my face?”  
Understanding the meaning of the question and deliberately choosing to ignore it, Malavai half-heartedly itched the side of his nose. “For once, no. You are...unmasked”    
Alcohol made him dramatic.   
“Is this a surprise to you?”   
“No. I was…”  __ judging your choice of beverage. Who drinks for flavour or ostentation? Drink to get drunk.  
“Yes?”   
Thankfully, before he had to think of another witty reply, his order of what looked like whisky appeared in front of him. He drank from it.   
“Drinking.”   
“I can see that”   
“So are you”   
Arcann was holding back from saying something else and Malavai  __ knew it. Now that he had a distraction from what was causing him to drink so heavily, he found he didn’t want it. Of course he didn’t. He wanted to wallow in his pain and drag it out for as long as he could bear it. It was part of him. Intoxicated as he was, he could stand to understand the reality of such knowledge. It didn’t hurt as bad to know the rest of his life would feel the same if he was too slow to process it fully.   
“Sorry?”   
“Hm?” Malavai was being addressed again.   
“You were muttering to yourself”   
Of course he had been. “I apologise if I was bothering you. I’ll move”   
Just as he was getting off the stool, he heard the seat creak behind him. “I was about to ask if the drinking had anything to do with the locker earlier.”   
Turning around slowly to avoid a headrush, Malavai met his gaze. “What’s it to you?”   
Arcann shrugged. “I felt like asking. You’re clearly bothered”   
“Weren’t you going to find Senya?”   
“I did. She’s sleeping. So I’m here”   
That was fair enough. Malavai looked at his drink, and seriously considered unloading his frustrations onto the person he was keeping an eye on.   
Sense said he’d regret it, but alcohol said why not.   
Alcohol won.


	9. Zand

“And? And then what?”   
“In about two seconds...I lost my brother. Nothing could have prepared me for that. In an instant all that power was just gone, as soon as I realised.”   
“That’s...wait - did you-?”   
“I did”   
Malavai wiped a tear away from this cheek with the palm of his hand, and Arcann became aware that he too had misty eyes. The imperial was more drunk than he was - but only just. He was finding it more difficult to commit to sentences or thoughts, his limbs heavy and his head full of fog.   
“That’s what people don’t get,” Malavai continued, eyes suddenly alight with cold affront, “it’s not such a simple-so my father died, when I was young, and then I lose any hope of a career, and then just when I get it back, just when I  _ think _ ,” at this point he presses his fingers together, presumably to demonstrate the importance of the situation, “that I have a chance at getting anything back, it gets  _ worse _ . That’s what people don’t get, you can wish and push and try your damndest to make it better but it’s all completely out of our hands. There’s just  _ nothing _ ”   
“Maybe that’s not so bad”   
Arcann wasn’t sure where that comment had come from. Yet it all honesty he felt he’d been glad to throw away the chains of command as of recently - perhaps the last half hour - and the lack of control wasn’t unpleasant.   
“What?”   
“Maybe it being out of our control isn’t so bad at all. It certainly takes a lot of the blame away from anything you did that had regrettable consequences.”   
Malavai nodded in thought, slow and serious. “You have a point. Maybe. No, actually, I don’t agree. Not having control over anything would be maddening.”   
Snorting at the fast change of opinion, he shook his head.   
“But think about it. Total acceptance of the inevitable chaotic nature of reality.”   
“No, see, I refuse to do that.”   
“And yet you admitted that it could make absolutely no difference in your fate regardless”   
“Yes”   
“And you do enjoy protesting it”   
Quinn sat back, and raised his eyebrows. “Of  _ course _ . It’s my right to do so as a sentient being.”   
Arcann laughed, amused. Incredibly so. “‘I exist, therefore I complain’”   
“Ex _ actly _ ”   
For a long moment, they regarded each other. Arcann wasn’t sure if he was being stared at, or if his drinking companion had suddenly become too inebriated to function.   
This mystery was soon solved.   
“Say...I know it’s strange and forward, but do you want to...come back to my quarters and complain some more?”   
Now  _ that _ had been unexpected. If he wasn’t drunk himself, and if it wasn’t clear as day that Malavai was as suddenly nervous as he was, he’d have said no. But the equal footing and ever-enabling effect of whiskey gave him a confidence and social energy he’d not thought himself able to muster.   
“Buy me another. We can take it back with us”   
  


 

However many times he’d done it - which was fewer than most would think - attempting to work while severely hungover always felt more unbearable each time. Not only was he sweating, nauseous, and overcome with dizziness, his head was pounding, every light was far too bright and Arcann just wished to  _ sleep _ .   
A twi’lek, Vette, and an incredibly annoying man who spoke far too aggressively were in a heated conversation, apparently discussing their dislike for one another. The meeting hadn’t even begun yet.   
Arcann sat himself down in a corner of the room - slowly, so as not to test his stomach - observing those who arrived.   
It wasn’t long before he recognised his mother’s voice, along with that of the Beniko woman. He had found her polite enough in conversation, but suspected she was paying far more attention than she’d let on.   
They entered the room in quiet discussion, and he could tell from Senya’s expression that they weren’t in agreement. He attempted to listen, but the strain only made his headache worse.   
All of a sudden he became aware of a presence settling next to him.   
“Listen, last night,” spoke Quinn after a moment, his voice thankfully a murmur that didn’t pierce his eardrums like every other noise that morning, “I don’t remember all that much. Did, uh…”   
Clearly he was struggling to broach the subject. In fact, Arcann himself had spent all of thirty minutes trying to remember the details himself - until he’d taken a headache pill and let the fog clear.   
“Did, um, did we…?”   
Arcann shook his head. “Later. I can recall most-”   
An immediate distraction appeared in the form of a holo-image, one of a familiar planet alive with strange and peculiar technology that he had come to recognise as similar to his own Eternal fleet.   
Senya and Lana Beniko began to discuss Iokath in louder voices.   
“We have heard positive reports, it is worth trying to bring up as an option of advancement.”   
“I understand what you’re trying to accomplish, but are you sure this is something we should bring to the council?”   
“We’ve tried a lot of avenues and this is the only way that makes sense. In order for such a powerful weapon to be properly moderated and utilized we have to come to a sound agreement as the Eternal Alliance.”   
“Lana has a point”  
A third voice joined them. Theron Shan, as far as Arcann was aware. He stopped paying attention and rubbed his head, sighing deeply. Diplomacy was a system he was still adjusting to in terms of patience.    
He turned back to Quinn and muttered under his breath. “You look as bad as I feel”   
“...Probably” Quinn looked momentarily somewhat offended at the idea, but seemed to brush it off. “I was almost late.”   
“Shame on you”   
“You drank just as much as me”  
“I did _ not _ ” Arcann knew exactly how much he’d had - and it was enough to keep an almost clear account of the night before. Malavai had been the one to ask for details.  
“I’m getting out some gabaki after this.”    
“Oh?”   
“This is me politely asking you if you’d like to have some too. I’m afraid being hungover robs me of almost all my pleasantries”   
Perhaps with a  _ complete _ stranger Arcann would have found the attempt at meeting common ground somewhat crass and presumptuous, but given the circumstances it was precisely what he wanted in that moment.   
“That would be nice.”


	10. Zandkasteel

_ It was dark. He was in a room surrounded by water. Or was he underwater? _ __   
_ There was nothing to hear except his own heartbeat and the undercurrent of blood rushing in his ears. _ __   
_ Completely alone. _ __   
_ Red light spilled in from somewhere, and he turned to try to find it. Concentrating on the colours, following where it was brightest. _ __   
_ He wasn’t sure when he knew, but it was only when he thought to consider why that he realised it was who he’d been looking for. _ __   
__ Malavai tried to call out, to explain. If only they’d just wait. He was so close. His words only came out silent.  
He knew they could hear him. He moved on. Swimming? __   
_ They were upon him. Angry. _ __   
_ Disgusted. Talking in words that he couldn’t make out. Only the hatred. _ __   
_ I tried! I’m sorry! _ __   
_ They wanted his death. He knew this. It was fine. It was. _ __   
_ He saw their eyes as the grey faded. The life faded. _ __   
Quinn breathed in sharp as he awoke. He’d dozed off while working, and clearly with too much swirling around in his head. Stress made it difficult to settle into a positive mindset, even with the help of grey gabaki. He’d been pouring over the leads he’d found, the possible avenues that he’d worked so much energy into essentially marking down as nothing. It was familiar and precarious road. One that drained his soul every time he walked it.   
As he was, he’d been trying to gain access to a database of registered protected citizens on Dromund Kaas. It was a database he had absolutely no right to, and had given up on early on in the search. A last resort, and one he was only fixated on because they had to be  _ somewhere _ .   
He tutted in annoyance as he was discovered trying to find a back door, and restarted his datapad, sitting back.   
“Is something wrong?”   
Arcann was looking up from meditating, his eyes slightly reddened.   
“I’m trying to get into someplace. It’s nothing if not secure.”   
“That sounds like something you shouldn’t be doing if you don’t have access”   
“Oh, it is.” There was no room for discussion. “The server is old. Getting access through the ‘correct’ channels would take far too long”   
Arcann made a small noise of acknowledgement.   
This was hardly the first time they’d shared company while working. This time, however, they were at the Zakuulan’s quarters, since they were bigger. And comfier.   
“Is it your old boss you’re searching for?”   
Quinn froze. “I’d rather not answer that, if you don’t mind.”   
There was no reply. He was thankful for it.   
He rubbed his eyes with one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. Time slipped away from him when he felt scattered. It was so difficult to concentrate.   
The search was fruitless. Every time he tried it brought up that fear, only increased tenfold with each failure. He had to know this. Had to accept it.   
Even given the time that had passed, enough for so much of himself to have faded away, the pain and guilt would remain as fresh as the fear that came with being so untethered.   
Wallowing was getting no work done.   
“Is everything alright?” Arcann asked again.   
It made him sigh. Something within him reacted instinctively to any kind of intrusion with disgust. Safety was in hiding away, in solidarity.   
“I don’t think so.”   
No point in being dishonest.   
“I know you want to be alone on this. I do understand.”   
“I know”   
Why did  _ everything _ have to be so difficult?   
There was no pressure to talk - he knew this. This was not the reason for...whatever this was.   
It had been so long since he had had friends. They were still figuring out what interests they shared. What about each other’s personality would fit or be subtly altered to accommodate.   
“I’m grateful”   
They’d known each other for what? A week and a half? And worked in each other’s presence around seven times. Seen one another at the cantina only three.  
Quinn knew he was incredibly skilled at unnecessarily overanalysing social situations, to a degree that would affect his anxious disposition.    
“I need to find them. It’s very important to me. However, at this point I’m only...pissing in the wind” Malavai surprised himself in how tired and defeated he sounded. “I’d like to accept your help, but there’s so much context that would take too long to explain”   
There was no protest in Arcann’s expression. His eyes were closed, calm, understanding. Even in private company he preferred to wear the mask.   
Perhaps the reason went beyond cosmetic intimidation.   
Malavai went back to being hunched over his datapad. There had to be a way in. It  _ was _ old.   
“If you ever change your mind on getting it out, I’ll be here”   
  
That day came sooner than Malavai would have expected.    
Half of the reason was due to there really being nobody else he could realistically talk to about any of this.   
Sure, he’d debated Vette as an option, but it simply hurt too much to broach the subject with someone who had so much context.   
Tirall knew nothing. Only what was to be found in public records - which was of course, only half the truth. No amount of accurate personnel filing could portray exactly what it felt like to be on the receiving end of such blunt power.   
In Tirall knowing nothing, there was no chance of assumption or unbearable sympathy. He listened, but he didn’t tell him what to think.   
He sat opposite, maybe even only half listening, but Malavai didn’t really mind.   
“I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t want it to overpower everything else I have to do. I want to do my actual job too, and I want to do it well.”   
“Have you ever considered that this is too important to you?” Arcann rubbed his mask with his right hand. “I understand you’re in their debt, but I can only speak from experience. This kind of obsessive hunt can only lead to more despair.”   
He was right, and it was awful.   
“I’ll worry about that when I find them. Dead or alive.”   
Alive.   
The database had led to nothing. Only a couple of strangely hidden people that he would only investigate for the sake of ruling them out.   
For the sake of knowing for sure that he hadn’t missed a single option.  
There was nothing else. He’d trawled through unidentified body reports from the Outer Rim to the depths of the underworlds of Zakuul and Coruscant. He’d checked every instance of organics in mass garbage fills. New citizens in remote or easy-to-hide in locations. Whispers of anyone that was unusually distant or private.    
He’d  __ tried .   
It had almost taken everything from him.   
  
  
  
Summer had began to rise upon their section of Odessan, embracing Arcann’s mornings with a golden warmth. The time for steamy breath while he exercised was over, instead he was greeted by a bright orange sky, getting lighter with every minute that passed.  
There was so much to process in the peace of the morning. He could almost feel the presence of Vaylin, hear her voice advising and mocking his choices. Questioning what he hoped to gain by his new friendship in the Imperial Major.    
There lay a question he didn’t know the answer to - and didn’t altogether mind. In a sense he was afraid that if he were to directly attempt to pin down what it was they had cultivated it would simply shatter the blissfully ignorant feeling it gave him.  
Unspoken affection was what he found easiest, and what he thought Quinn would appreciate more than any amount of pretty words. Something about their friendship was so different from other ones he’d had. Malavai still felt like a stranger to him, despite the rituals they’d gotten used to around each other. It was a pleasant scenario.    
“Arcann?”   
The soft tone of his mother’s voice came from behind him. He turned, and smiled.   
“Yes? Good morning”   
“It is, isn’t it?” Senya’s smile looked fuller than he thought he’d seen in years. “I wanted to talk to you about something”   
“Anything”   
Arcann sat down upon a rock, a few feet away. She did the same, opposite.   
“I thought we should discuss you and Malavai Quinn”   
“What’s there to say?” Above all else, Arcann himself had no words. “We’re friends”   
“And that’s what I find surprising. As well as troubling. It’s good that you are building bridges and communicating but you must understand that he might not be completely on our side”   
“I’m aware of that. Of course I’m aware of that.” It might have been something unusual for him to do when the weight of an entire empire lay on his shoulders, but he was sure he could handle sentient interaction with someone from a differently governed part of the galaxy. “We simply enjoy each other’s company”  
“I know you do. I promise, I’m not trying to patronise you, Arcann. I’m only looking out for you”    
“I know, mother.” Wishing he had a solid way to prove how much he cared for her, all he could settle for was taking one of her hands in his own. “Don’t feel I’m only listening to you because you’re the only family I left left”   
“Arcann,” Senya laughed, confused, placing a hand on his jaw, thumb on his chin, “that’s not what I think at all.”   
Around them, blossom leaves fluttered in the breeze, bright early sunlight shading them golden as they passed.   
  


_ >And on top of that, Vette has been asking me about you for some reason. I don’t understand why - it’s not like you’re miles away. She can ask you anything herself. Nosey twi’leks. _ __   
The night had fallen fast, and even as it did Arcann found himself sending communications to Quinn instead. The man was in a mood for chronic complaining, as was evident.   
> __ Why don’t you come over? I can’t seem to drop off either.  
>I’m practically on my way.  
>From the cantina? __   
__ >You can count on it.  
Arcann thought briefly on where this could lead, and decided it was probably nowhere. Hopefully if he was in another’s company time would pass faster, and he would feel tired enough to sleep.  
Yet not even ten minutes passed and he already heard a knock at the door. Upon opening it, Arcann was faced with Malavai, who looked far more sober than expected. Completely so, he’d guess.    
“I didn’t want to drink. I actually want to be in the moment”   
“Oh?”   
Malavai seemed tense. Which was fairly usual, for him, but it felt like a different colour. He shut the door behind him.   
“I think I may be getting close to...finding the wrath”   
It explained a lot. He put so much onto this one goal, no wonder he looked...manic.   
“How can I help?” Arcann sat down, and Malavai beside him. He almost thought he knew the answer before he’d asked. Malavai looked down for a moment.   
“I’m so...full. There’s too much in my head. I’d like to not be able to think”   
As it turned out, he’d been completely right about where it could lead. It was clumsy, awkward. Their body heat shared beyond the cool draught that came in through the window.   
Arcann slept without a cover.


	11. Fugtig

“My field agents will arrive in two days. They will liaison with you, and then move on to their mission. I expect you to be able to ensure that they remain under the radar.”  
“Of course, your excellency.”  
“I will send you their likenesses over holo, along with what items you will need to provide them with. That will be all, Major”  
“Very good, Empress”  
Empress Acina was gone from the holo-projector as fast as she appeared, not one to waste any time on anything she deemed unnecessary.  
Iokath was continuing to remain just out of reach, which was frustrating all parties involved. The Alliance had become restless with need for progress. The soldiers that they had cooped up were beginning to pick frequent fights with the more highly-strung of the Mandos, inter-factional increasing in both pettiness and occurence. Of course, it was none of Malavai’s business, but since it was technically Arcann’s, he felt compelled to help his...friend?  
Every time he attempted to label it it felt strange and unusual. He didn’t want to settle for friend. There was something about him that was constantly impressive, and made Quinn want to better himself to follow along. Some certain and innate trait that commanded admiration and made him want to feel he shared something with Arcann that was independent to anything he had with anyone else. It was refreshing, at least, to be feeling something beyond black despair.  
Shaking his thoughts back to work, Malavai studied the data that he had been sent by the Sith Empress. Two faces, both Chiss, unsurprisingly, one with a sharp bobbed haircut and an unwavering stare, the other with a vacant expression, and looser, longer hair that looked somewhat untidy. There was something familiar about the second one, but he couldn’t _quite_ place where it was.  
‘Jive’ and ‘Cob’ were their names. He was to give them two blasters each, five grenades, and two bizarre looking masks. He hoped they were not going to be too troublesome to deal with. Malavai Quinn only had so much energy in his reserves.  
He set about preparing their briefcases, and to no surprise, his mind drifted back to what remained missing.  
Nothing had been gained. The longer it went on the more it ate away at him. The time he’d spent holed up inside, too overcome to move instead of getting on, or doing something that wasn’t completely depressing. Most of the time he slept when that happened, and would wake up with sticky eyes, too disoriented to register how much pain he was in and therefore able to push it down and get back to work.  
His dreams had gotten worse. They only consisted of fear and despair, words he’d recognise spoken to him in _their_ voice, only to wake, and remember whose masked existence had borne the script of his self-hatred. Echoes of a worm that had buried itself deep within his mind, fracturing and kaleidoscoping into his most unconscious mannerisms. There were times he’d lay awake overnight, thinking on how he always set an alarm an hour earlier than anyone else so he had time to climb over the mountain of despair he always woke up to. How he was always two steps ahead of himself and his actions because if he didn’t know exactly what was going to happen throughout the day, or week- if something took him by surprise, he could handle it only in complete control.  
These revelations troubled him, and that anxiety lended itself to the rot at the centre of it all.  
Quinn took a moment to breathe, before sitting down on his bed, leaning against the wall, and beginning to study his datapad. In approximately two weeks he was going to personally meet one of the hidden citizens, one that was unnamed on the database but had been assigned case number 71. As far as he’d gone into investigating it, he could follow the payment trails only so far. The security specifically hired by the Dromund Kaas local Imperial government was an independent company, unaffiliated and expensive. They worked mainly in ensuring nobody the benefactors didn’t approve of paid too much attention to the person under protection, along with keeping their identity hidden as a given, which in Malavai’s experience, meant that their main client would be wealthy families looking to hide their children from assassination opportunities and scandal.  
If there was no lead, nothing to be gained from this, he could still use it as a way to cross off useless paths to go down. Either way, he’d gain something. He had to repeat that to himself like an aayat.  
Every day. Along with every movement he made to get closer to the end.  
  
  
The meeting point for the agents he was supposed to assist was a cantina, one that was lit with a soft, pink-toned red, pumping out a harmless steam laced with gabaki for relaxation. It was a fairly empty cantina aside from one figure sat at the bar, sipping on a fancy looking green drink with a small umbrella. Quinn ordered a water and took a seat further in on a couch, waiting for the two to arrive, keeping the briefcases underneath the seat.  
It only took about seven minutes of inspecting every tiny smudge on his glass and how exact he could get his sips to be in tiny units until they arrived.  
Jive, the sharper one came in first, wearing an understated dark outfit and a splash of dark red lipstick that wasn’t much against their bright crimson stare. They didn’t order anything, and simply headed straight over to sit opposite.  
“Where’s your partner?”  
Jive looked down at the time, and tutted in annoyance. “You know as well as I do”  
They spoke in a quiet and low accented tone, not caring to look in his direction. The door to the cantina opened, and another Chiss walked in, Cob, who was in a hooded jacket. She spoke to the bartender for a moment, and Quinn took a slow sip from his water.  
Cob sat down next to Jive, and smiled, holding a glass with salt on the rim.  
“I have everything here” Quinn reached down and pulled out both briefcases, placing them on the table. Jive opened one, inspecting the contents in silence before closing it again.  
“Thanks.”  
Clearly a person of few words.  
“I’ll send you drop points as I assign them and update the maps for the Alliance camps as you move through. You have my holo-frequency if you need any other assistance. It’s secure, but I’d keep it for emergencies only. If you require immediate extraction I’ll have to defer to the Empress”  
“We won’t”  
Cob was certain. Quinn suddenly knew where he recognised her from.  
“May I ask - Are you Zela’s sister?”  
She put down her drink. “One of them, yes. How do you know Zela?”  
“We were…” Quinn trailed off. “We worked together.”  
“Fascinating”  
Cob finished her drink and got up, her partner following suit.  
“It was nice to meet you, Major. Good luck. Empress Acina says to be ready”  
They left.  
Malavai had known Zela during the black time he had blurred and squashed together into a bad dream he couldn’t dwell on. He remembered the Chiss woman being one of the first people he saw when he woke from yet another failure. He remembered sharing conversations in the food hall. He remembered how the walls had become everything of the outside.  
He remembered how hard it was to breathe, and got out of his seat to leave the cantina.


	12. Ørken

“Fascinating”  
“Isn’t it?”  
“Absolutely”  
Vortena and the commander were sat opposite Arcann, the three of them examining the most recent data they’d obtained from scanning Iokath at a distance. Still too dangerous to visit themselves, and putting every probe out of commission before reaching the surface they’d had to settle with what they could get by staying above ground level.  
The technology seemed to go beyond what they’d found originally. Although capable of immense destruction, they were finding evidence leading to something underground where a large amount of the power was going.  
“The more we find out about this place, the less we actually seem to know”  
“Other than it being incredibly dangerous.”  
The commander sat back, leaning on a crate behind her. “I’m seriously debating if anyone should have access to this. Including us, of course”  
“I was hoping you’d say that”  
Vortena was quick to agree. Arcann remained silent, but he couldn’t deny that she had a point. Perhaps if he were still in charge, he’d have handled it differently, but in his position as he found it, the Eternal Fleet and everything it was connected to seemed to cause as much death as it claimed to be able to bring a stop to.  
Still, they had to know as much as they could before committing to such a choice. There could be something inside the structure that assisted them in rebuilding the galaxy already broken into pieces by war.

 

While sleeping that night, Arcann couldn’t find rest. He dreamt he kept walking through fog, following what he thought was his sister’s voice.   
His surroundings were unfamiliar. Trees that were endlessly blossoming in orange, a sun that was soft in light and golden in hue, and caves that called his name. There was nobody in sight, not a single living creature.  
__ Arcann.  
There, again, a pull at him. He stood opposite a cave, but could not see beyond the darkness within. Hesitant, but with the certainty there was nothing else he was supposed to do, he entered, just in time to see a shadow of movement within.  
“Hello?”   
Careful not to trip, he felt his way about in the darkness, his mask granting him a faint impression of where to go.  
“You heard me, then”   
An unfamiliar voice. A woman?   
For a moment the darkness remained awkwardly silent, then a flame was struck, lighting a torch, granting him vision of the stranger. Short, brown hair, cut just above her shoulders, soft features and a warm complexion. Her expression seemed one of sadness, and understanding.   
“Who are you?”   
“Someone who heard you”   
So she spoke in riddles. “I thought you said you called me”   
“I did. But only because I heard you.”   
She walked behind him, taking in his appearance. Arcann was careful to be on guard. Her accent was peculiar, not unlike those affiliated with the so-called republic.  
“Your grief is powerful. It was in my interest to quell it”   
Arcann looked her over again, and found that something clicked. “You dress like a Sith”   
She spat on the ground in response. “I am so much more than one of those...children. Sith, Jedi...all constraints built upon the quest for power. I can see into the hearts of every living creature, and bring their true nature to the surface. I do not need limit myself like they do”   
“What did you want with me”   
The woman stepped close to him, observing him for a moment with half-closed eyes before having satisfied an unasked question.   
“Vaylin is alright.”   
Arcann blinked. In shock, he felt himself begin to wake.   
“She’s alive?”   
“She’s alright. Vaylin is al-”   
Arcann sat up in bed, torn from his dreams, confused and troubled. If someone was playing tricks on him, he’d murder them in their sleep.   
But if it were true...if he dared hope...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm alive and this whole thing is actually planned out. Just gotta get through the next few chapters and then it's stuff i've mostly written already.


	13. Sandslot

Through rocky cliffs and rushing water, in the early hours of the morning, the sun was rising. Orange light spilled in, reflecting off the flowing waterfalls, momentarily blinding Quinn, shining bright directly onto his face as he watched his surroundings begin to wake.   
With each development his freedom had given him, he couldn’t help but wonder what was coming. As easy as it was to think that the Sith Empress would simply bide her time until taking the galaxy back as she wanted, leaving Malavai to continue his search in his own time, it was no longer that simple. He had found something else here, that he was more reluctant to cast off at a moment’s notice.   
The Odessen wilds unnerved him. Even from a distance, they were not the jungles of Dromund Kaas he had explored so easily as a young child, when imagining he was emulating his father. They whispered to him in a way he didn’t enjoy, in a language he didn’t understand. They held a dread he felt was final, and cold, and horrifying.  
He had to prepare to leave for Dromund Kaas.   
Quinn wouldn’t be gone from his station at the Eternal Alliance for long, but he already dreaded going back. A place he once called home seemed to foreign every time he returned, even despite the unending rain, and unchanging landscape. Acina had changed everything beyond emotional recognition.   
He was going there to find someone. With no idea who, or why, it would be possible to pretend he was somewhere else entirely, and avoid the main parts of the city.   
Something about it didn’t feel right.

“Oh, _good_ ”  
The familiar sarcastic tone of the woman who had been named Commander rang out in the war room, drawing Quinn back to reality. Someone else was here - speaking in an accent he recognised as originating from the Imperial Capital. Had the Empress sent another?  
 _No.  
_ This was a woman dressed in Republic armour, completely unintimidated by anyone in the room with her, talking down to the Commander with a confidence he was instantly set on edge by.  
“We know you have an Imperial liaison. We are also aware of Iokath’s considerable power - we simply want to be kept in the loop”  
The Commander wasn’t shy about her distaste, rolling her eyes and waving a hand in the direction of Theron Shan.  
“Can you take care of this? They’re your lot. I don’t know where she’ll want to stay”  
“You _can_ address me to my face. I do also have a __name ”  
“Don’t know why I have to babysit. Why was this just sprung on us? The Sith Empress had the courtesy of giving us a warning”  
“We did send warning. We had no reply. So I came in person”  
Quinn zoned out, bored already by the bickering. True enough, it was partially his fault - he’d intercepted the message sent that announced the Republic’s wish to be formally involved and erased all trace of it. He wasn’t to know they’d just send a representative without a confirmed response.  
Elara Dorne, this woman was announcing herself as. While Shan and the commander discussed where she would be staying, she looked up, and observed Quinn, meeting his stare with a far more steely one, raising her chin in a tiny confrontational movement.  
Malavai looked away first, remaining outwardly uninterested, but instantly on guard. Careful not to huff as he did, he turned and left the room.  
  


Quinn had gone back in the direction of his room, but hadn’t settled. Instead, he’d taken a train deep into the mountains to the other side of the wilds. Arcann, in his curiosity and concern, had followed. Anxiety and anger bled off the man into all his surroundings, and although in reality he probably couldn’t do a thing to help, he could at least try to get to the bottom of things.  
Taking heavy steps to let him know he was there, Arcann sat across from him, and was quiet for a moment.  
“You hold a lot of resentment for your governing opposition.”  
Malavai was silent, and glanced at him. Then shrugged.  
“Why do you hate them so much?”  
“It’s what I’ve always done. They bring nothing but disorder and chaos”  
“But you know that’s not the case now. You know it’s not that simple”  
“Yes”  
“So why do you hate them?”  
“I just do”  
“That’s not an answer”  
“Satele Shan killed my father.”  
 _There it was._  
“My whole life, I’ve wanted justice for his death. But how do you bring justice to a government as untouchable as them?” Malavai smiled to himself. “I thought I would never win.”  
That admission must have hurt to say, to give voice to. Arcann understood what it felt like to be powerless.  
“Even when I heard about Baras’s crazy plan I didn’t believe it was possible”  
Arcann sat in silence, listening.  
“Not until I met the one who became the Emperor’s Wrath. It wasn’t until they opened my eyes that I could see how all the damage they’ve caused could finally be...undone.”  
Arcann knew how he felt, in a manner of speaking. He’d once held his father in such high regard.

“There’s something troubling you”   
Back in his room, Arcann hadn’t brought it up until they were both completely relaxed. Sweet incense and gabaki swirled around them, hypnotic.  
“I suppose you’re right”   
Even intoxicated and half-asleep, Malavai was so incredibly hard to read. His emotions were simple enough to decode, but any reasoning behind them, any thoughts he kept were buried so deep Arcann still couldn’t understand what he wanted in any passing second.  
“Tell me”   
“I don’t want to leave”   
An answer that raised more questions than it did close any. Of course.   
“You’re leaving?”   
“No. Yes. For a few days. I have to go back to Dromund Kaas. But I don’t just mean that”  
“Tell me”  
“I don’t know what’s going to happen. This is all so new to me, but I can’t see the Alliance carrying on in existence. You can see how both sides to my end of the galaxy are just biding their time before trying to destroy one another again, and I used to know what I wanted out of that. Now I’m not so sure”   
Arcann sat up, careful to close his eyes when dizziness started to hit.   
“What’s changed?”   
“Everything’s changed. I think I came out of prison a different person.”   
Malavai continued to stare up at the ceiling.   
“I enjoy your company. I don’t want to lose that”


End file.
